nd he would growl, "We shall see what it all comes to in
the end," in a tone that made them tremble. Sometimes, too, at Savigny,
in the evening, when the park, the avenues, the blue slates of the
chateau, the red brick of the stables, the ponds and brooks shone
resplendent, bathed in the golden glory of a lovely sunset, this
eccentric parvenu would say aloud before his children, after looking
about him:

"The one thing that consoles me for dying some day is that no one in
the family will ever be rich enough to keep a chateau that costs fifty
thousand francs a year to maintain."

And yet, with that latter-day tenderness which even the sternest
grandfathers find in the depths of their hearts, old Gardinois would
gladly have made a pet of his granddaughter. But Claire, even as a
child, had felt an invincible repugnance for the former peasant's
hardness of heart and vainglorious selfishness. And when affection forms
no bonds between those who are separated by difference in education,
such repugnance is increased by innumerable trifles. When Claire married
Georges, the grandfather said to Madame Fromont:

"If your daughter wishes, I will give her a royal present; but she must
ask for it."

But Claire received nothing, because she would not ask for anything.

What a bitter humiliation to come, three years later, to beg a hundred
thousand francs from the generosity she had formerly spurned, to humble
herself, to face the endless sermons, the sneering raillery, the whole
seasoned with Berrichon jests, with phrases smacking of the soil, with
the taunts, often well-deserved, which narrow, but logical, minds can
utter on occasion, and which sting with their vulgar patois like an
insult from an inferior!

Poor Claire! Her husband and her father were about to be humiliated in
her person. She must necessarily confess the failure of the one, the
downfall of the house which the other had founded and of which he had
been so proud while he lived. The thought that she would be called upon
to defend all that she loved best in the world made her strong and weak
at the same time.

It was eleven o'clock when she reached Savigny. As she had given no
warning of her visit, the carriage from the chateau was not at the
station, and she had no choice but to walk.

It was a cold morning and the roads were dry and hard. The north wind
blew freely across the arid fields and the river, and swept unopposed
through the leafless trees and bushes